Miracle is Just a Misnomer
by AngelusThursday
Summary: Destiel College AU. Dean goes to college because Sam told him to. Castiel thinks he's a log. The Winchesters are still bad ass, Ruby is still a bitch, and Dean still sort of hates Gabriel. What exactly is a miracle and how do I get one?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Destiel College AU pre-series-ish. Yep yep short chapter boring start I'm sorry sobs  
I was sick when writing this soo... I can't say for sure what this chapter sounds like. I promise it'll get better ;A;  
It's not even that exciting of an idea but it won't leave... so here it is. Reviews are much appreciated!

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There had been an outbreak of vampires in the Phoenix inner city areas where a nest had grown so big they branched off and scattered all across the state and into the bordering ones as well. It had taken them weeks to track the first one, and by the time they realized it wasn't a simple one-time kill, John figured they'd be there for a while yet, and that renting was going to be way cheaper than motel every night. Sammy's resolute "I want an education" phase had begun and the kid had realized how much he needed a scholarship. He took to staying home when Dean and John were out on endless scouting trips, some fruitless and others spat them back out covered in blood from head to toe and maybe in other places as well. Sam stitched them back up with lips pressed together and no complaints in between studying for the SATs and ACTs and every other test in between. John had fewer complaints than expected about that arrangement; maybe because Sam became their research front, and they both took liberties to annoy at all odd hours for 'can you look up how long it take a bitten human to fully turn?' Or 'Hey Sammy, when's the next forecasted cloudy day in Show Low?' Sam was pretty content with the arrangement as well, kid made straight A's throughout senior year and easily scored a near perfect score on both ACT and SAT.

No amount of big brother pride could stop Dean from calling Sam a nerd for the next two weeks though. Even after they'd cleaned out the vamps, they stayed so Sam could graduate in the same school for once. When Sam left for college with a full ride from Stanford (again, totally a nerd), Dean decided there's really nothing here for him that can't wait, so he takes a big sigh and enrolls in college as well. It's Sam's idea actually. (Come on Dean, it's never too late. Don't want any regrets later on.) He hasn't got Sam's grades, so he can't go to Cali and watch over Sammy at Stanford. They haven't got that kind of money. Actually he would have gone anyways if Sam had asked, but he assured Dean that he was old enough to take care of himself now, and that he'll stay out of trouble unless he got back up from Dean or John. Instead, Dean is conveniently able to plead in-state to ASU since they HAVE been living here. Technicalities were sorted out one way or another. After all, come on, he's John Winchester's kid. Not living here long enough and not paying taxes right isn't going to stop him from going to college. After that, John recognized a lost cause and took off alone after demon trail.

Surprisingly, even Dean got a partial scholarship and decent financial aid seeing no one in his family technically had a job and all. Despite his shitty grades that they could hardly dig up from so long ago and so scattered across the country, he still had the Winchester brains and landed good test scores, though not as godly as Sam's. So here he is, sitting in a classroom again with kids Sam's age, still not into the whole good grades opera. There is also no way in hell he's gonna stay in a dorm with hundreds of drunk kids spreading STDs so he screwed the on-campus housing rule and rented an apartment close by instead. It's also a lot cheaper to manage his much cheaper rent and bills by himself than forking over a fortune to have on-campus housing. He grew up using the bare minimum; it's never too hard to keep going. He'd also gotten a part time job at the auto body shop nearby to help pay for things, and once in a while, John will send him a sketchy credit card (with an attached to-be-ditched date) to help him along. No matter what anyone says about his dad, John is pretty awesome sometimes.

Despite how ridiculously big the school is, Dean's begun to make a name for himself. He doesn't mean to, but truth is he sticks out like a black sheep in the midst of a colorful, neon flock. You wouldn't notice at first glance, but there was something so inherently different about him that people, with their curious human nature, gravitated to.

The first party he was invited to, he'd broken up a fight between 4 drunk undergrads like it was nothing, loose, buzzing pleasantly, and completely coherent despite having drunk maybe more than anyone else. The girl he'd taken home was apparently just as impressed by his other set of skills, judging by how many sorority girls suddenly began throwing themselves at him. At this point, if there was a party going on in the general vicinity, Dean would have been invited. The college thing was pretty awesome at first. Willing girls everywhere, he hardly had to make an effort. He rode on that high for a mere few weeks before the hype died down. It took away the chase, and he realize that there's really no active in the cheap band-aid he finds himself with. It's just a pretty pad to cover the wound. Even so, life was good. No one's dying, no one's fighting (no one he cares about anyways), he's got friends, a fixed place to live, and no cops on his ass. Dean's in a different clique now.

He had no reason not to be happy. He chalked up the ever-present tumbling feeling in his stomach to be motion sickness to change. He's not a guy who likes to throw away old habits. No more Sammy, no more dad, not even the Impala. There's not even been a single ghost. Not a squeak. Yeah, Dean feels pretty crappy sometimes. Sam is way better at this normal college kid thing.

It's Friday night and he's in someone's house. The music is blaring and there's a really nice ass grinding against him to the beat. His hands are on her waist and crawling upwards by the second. She gives a good grind with fucking amazing hips, slotting his dick into the crack of her ass, a black dress tightly clad, accentuating the shape of it. His hands are suddenly there, pressed against the swell of her breasts and she tilts her head back and gives a nearly inaudible breathy moan. His dick is suddenly noticeably hard. He rubs it deliciously against that seriously sexy ass and their panting is so loud he can actually hear it over the music. Granted, they're pressed pretty close together. Gosh, he feels like a horny high school kid again. Suddenly, his phone vibrates and the brunette in his arms jumps in surprise. He mutters a "sorry" and begrudgingly checks his phone. Swear to god… if it's his boss he's gonna ignore it. He already told him that he was definitely not going to go in to work tonight. But habit stops him from ignoring it all together. He's lived almost two decades knowing that nothing is more important than making SURE. Caller ID says Sam, and he shoves the sinking feeling to hell. Sam rarely calls – he's busy and he has this idea that Dean wants some time off now that he's not stuck to Sam's side like the past 18 years. Even if it's nothing URGENT and he's interrupting Dean's alone time tonight, Dean can't help but feel a little pleasant at hearing from his baby brother again. He slides away from the dance floor without hesitation and flips open his phone, missing the disappointed look the girl shot his way as he makes his way to get outside.

"Hey Sammy." He says in casual greeting, the Winchester greeting appropriate for all occasions. Everything that could be said has followed that phrase. "'I'm hungry Dean' 'Yeah so I looked it up and…' 'what kind of pie did you say…' 'Dean' 'there's a fucking wraith on my ass where the fuck are you?' 'Yeah um, I got arrested.' and worst of all, when he says nothing, and just breathes unevenly into the mic. It totally freaks Dean.

"Hey Dean. Am I interrupting something?"

The loud music's a dead give away.

"Yeah, but you're an annoying little shit so when are you ever not interrupting something?"

There's a pause. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean grins. "What's up?"

Sam takes a deep breath. Then another. "Yeah… Um…"

He suddenly sounded utterly miserable.

"Okay, who do I have to fuck up?"

"No, no one, Dean." Sam sounds drained. "It's just that… Okay this is stupid. I shouldn't have called you. It's kind of pathetic."

"Bullshit! Out with it. You sound like someone ran over your kitten."

Sam huffed a laugh. "God I feel like such a girl."

"Stop beating around the bush like one, Samantha."

Now that he's outside standing by the driveway and the music is no longer audible, Dean can practically hear Sam's bitch face over the phone. He smiles.

"So I'm dating this chick named Ruby. Maybe _was_, I don't know. She's smart and talented and really amazing."

Dean makes a face.

"I was supposed to do a project with this guy and I knock on his door and he lets me in and he hasn't got a shirt on and is just buttoning his pants says 'sorry about the mess' and I laugh and cracked some joke and then Ruby walks out of the bathroom with _his_ shirt on cuz I definitely don't own Metallica shirts."

Sam is definitely ranting. At least the Sam's project partner's got good taste in music.

"And I guess I kinda flipped out and grabbed her and dragged her outside and she was pretty pissed at me, saying the only reason I even found her was because I'm spending my Friday evening doing some stupid PROJECT instead of with my girlfriend, and that I had no right to make a scene in public and that maybe she'll talk to me later if I've calmed down and stopped being such a..." He falters, "And she just went right back in. Maybe to put on her clothes or something I don't know. She didn't even care, didn't spare me the… Anyways, I have no fucking clue what I'm supposed to do and holed up cuz I didn't feel like talking to anyone."

But you. Dean hears the unspoken afterthought, slightly pleased that his baby brother still needs him. It seems that Sam is done. Dean clears his throat. "Was."

"What?"

"I said, was." Even though he knows Sam heard what he said. "She ain't your girlfriend no more."

"Yeah?" He sounds downright miserable.

"No, I mean, you're going to dump her, because you have done nothing wrong and she sounds like an intolerable bitch if she says shit like that to make you think it's your fault she fucking cheated on you."

"She's never like this dean. She's always been there for me."

Dean snorts. "Yeah well, seems like that's not true anymore." He hears Sam take a breath that sounds like doubt dipped in angst. "Look, there's me, and I ain't a saint. I sleep around and I generally don't give a fuck about their feelings and shit. But that's better than the other option. _Pretending_ to give a fuck about their feelings and then gutting them. That's how I can sleep at night. Because I know that I make no pretense and they'll get over it because they know I've never made any pretense. In the end, the odd one or two clingers may be mad at me and they may hate my guts but they won't ever think about it again. The worst is when people pull shit like this. They do the sweet caring girl or dude thing and get into your pants or your pantry or whatever they want, and they do a damn good job of it. But either they never meant it in the first place or they're just insufferably flawed, they'll screw up and blame YOU for it. Make you hate yourself. And there's just no running away from that. Either of the above options checks them off the list of girlfriend material. She wants you to feel miserable, makes her feel better about it too cuz you believing it's your fault makes her believe it too. So you go and you tell her it's over and slash or slap her in the face – she definitely deserves a slap for cheating on you at the very least – and then move the fuck on. Don't even try to explain yourself cuz she's just going to argue in that whiny girl-arguing voice and take away your sweet sweet closure. And then you go find someone has the exact opposite hair color and say 'hey, wanna fuck?' Kapeesh?"

Sam is silent for a while. "Okay. Yeah." He huffs another one of his _Sam_ laughs. "Yeah, thanks Dean."

"This is why Dad doesn't let me leave you alone. You get yourself into stupid shit like an idiot."

"Sounds like you have some first-hand experience. The Almighty Dean Winchester gotten himself into stupid shit like an idiot before?" Sam retaliates, grin seeping into his voice.

"Shut up. I just understand people is all."

"Maybe you should major in psychology and be a shrink instead of a mechanic."

"Yeah right. 'Oh you're suicidal? At least you haven't got ghosts and demons on your ass and you're not a rugaru and haven't been bitten by a vampire or werewolf. Here, copy down this Latin incantation if you ever bump into a demon though and oh, don't forget to put salt in your doors and windows. So stop trying to kill yourself cuz there's already a billion things that want to do that and they don't need your help. That'll be a bajillion bucks sir.' Yeah, that's gonna work out real well."

"Way to take a suggestion to heart, grumpy."

Sam sounds amused and Dean can pretty much hear his eyeball rolling in its socket. "Don't roll your eyes at me, bitch."

"Jerk." He doesn't even deny it. "Alright. Well go back to your non-sentimental Friday night screwing."

Dean puffs a smug cloud of barely visible breath into the chilly air. "You're welcome, baby brother."

Sam snorts. "Bye."

He can't help but grin like an idiot. He hasn't seen his brother in months after spending 24/7 practically pressed against him for the last 18 years, he's entitled to some withdrawal. Both of them. Not that he'll admit it on pain of death. He hangs around a little while more, just breathing and enjoying the bite in the air, not quite ready to go back into the mindless fray just yet after a moment of rare nostalgic clarity. Eventually, it's gets too cold to be standing outside with no jacket even in Arizona, and he turns to go back inside.

Except there's someone sitting on the doorstep wearing a trench coat (who the fuck wears a trench coat to parties), looking very guilty, and maybe slightly tipsy.

"Sorry I–" The guy stands up really quick and refused to make eye contact, "I couldn't help over hearing. I probably shouldn't have done that."

Dean raised his eyebrows as he walked towards the door. "It's fine man."

And then Weird-trench-coat-dude-who-listens-to-people's-phone-conversation glances up as Dean walks by and Dean's hand misses the door handle. The I-peeked-at-my-Christmas-present-early face paired with those unreal fucking blue eyes. Suddenly weird-trench-coat-dude-listening-to-my-phone-conversation didn't seem like a good name anymore. He closes the door behind him and the baby blues don't follow. You know what? He's not even that interested in that nice ass from before anymore.

"This is what talking about feelings does to me." He mumbles to himself and tosses back a purple nurple. "I want my fucking balls back."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Not sure if this one is ANY more interesting than the first. Please, if this sucks, inform me! I really would like to know because I am cringing as I read this, so... I'm sorry about any mistakes since I can't continue reading my own splurge any longer orz**

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Really, Balthazar is insufferable. No matter how many times Castiel expressed his wish to be left alone in peace and comfort of his home, he'd always wave him down and say "Nonsense! Brooding is no way to mend a broken heart!" in his annoying English tone, then proceed to riffle through Castiel's wardrobe in search of the most scandalous items he owns, which is, thank god, not very scandalous at all. However, the cheery fellow fails to be deterred and promptly shoved Castiel into the bathroom with the clothes and refused to let him out until he'd changed. Castiel tried lying once and scooting out the door real quick when he opens it, but the man's sharp as he is flamboyant. Thankfully, none of his fingers had been near the door, or he'd be in the emergency room instead of at this party. At least he let Castiel keep his trench coat and his dignity after making faces of disgust at all other outer wear Castiel owned. That was after he vowed to take Castiel out shopping for new coats after burning this one in a giant bonfire.

What makes it even worse is that within a couple minutes of arriving, he's waltzed his merry ass off and left Castiel standing awkwardly in the middle of a room. Thankfully, no one pays him much attention, and belatedly realizes the trench coat was a maybe bad idea. He would have blended in better with the not-Castiel clothes. Really, the only person who would feel weird about that is him, and he doesn't go out in public to impress himself.

"This is why I don't go out." He mutters dejectedly to himself, meaning something more along the lines of 'this is why I have no social life'.

"What's that, Cassy?" Balthazar is suddenly behind him and shoves a shot glass of strange liquid into his hand.

"Nothing. What are you trying to poison me with, Balthazar?"

"Relax, it's called a purple nurple. Just don't think about it." He grins at Castiel's unimpressed expression.

With an expression of great pain, Castiel downed the liquid and scrunched his face into oblivion afterwards. "That was horrible."

Balthazar laughed. "You'll be feeling a lot less horrible in a bit though."

"I told you –"

"Yeah yeah, you told me and I don't believe you."

Taking pity in Castiel's wounded animal expression, Balthazar hands Castiel his drink, swings his arms around Castiel's shoulder, and sauntered through the rooms, dragging the other with him

"Tell you what, you look around and land your sights on a fine piece of arse, and I'll make sure you get to hit that. You knock back a couple more shots and enjoy yourself okay?"

Castiel groans. "Balthazar, I probably have a sign on my forehead that says "prude asexual log" because no one ever wants anything to do with me, past copying my notes that is."

"That's only because you're so uptight! If you do what I tell you to and loose a little you and those pretty eyes of yours will be swamped with so many guys and gals I'll have to fight 'em offa you. And maybe get rid of that horrid coat too." Balthazar points around. "Come on, there must be someone in here who gets our Cassy all hot and bothered."

"There isn't." Castiel says flatly, staring straight ahead.

"Come on, you didn't even look around." Balthazar nags.

Castiel sweeps his eyes around just to prove his point, "I told you, I don't…"

"What's that?" Balthazar says a little louder as Castiel trails off inaudibly. He receives no reply and looks over at Castiel, who is currently distractedly watching someone on the dance floor. Balthazar follows his gaze to a cute blonde practically rubbing the guy behind her off with her hips and grins. "Ohh, good choice. You like the blond ones huh?" He claps his startled friend on the back. "You stay here… no, never mind, you'll get lost. Wait for me by the door while I work some _mmmagic_." He winks.

Castiel look mortified, but Balthazar has practically disappeared like the Cheshire cat (complete with the grin) and he has no choice but to make his way over to the door. Oh god, he's about to try to get the girl to talk to Castiel. At least he didn't realize that Castiel had just actually been ogling Dean Winchester. That would have been all kinds of embarrassing if Balthazar decided to do something about it. Dean Winchester was a huge deal. He's an "adult learner", but really he's only 22 and has both perky undergrads and hot grad students falling at his feet. He's got the brains, the brawns, the car, the attitude, and the charm. Castiel optimistically realizes that he's got one of the five, then realistically reminds himself that brains don't really do shit unless money or charm comes with it.

No matter what kind of black magic Balthazar has access to, Castiel can't imagine Winchester ever paying him attention. What could they possibly have in common? Dean is a mechanic. Castiel almost laughs at the image of him explaining theology of ancient civilizations to an apathetic Dean. That's not necessarily a bad thing is it? Charming as Winchester may be, Castiel isn't looking to have any kind of relationship with someone who can't have decent conversations with him. Someone he has no leverage over. Every breeze will be a threat, and he'll live each moment worrying Dean will be swept away by the draft of any passing bus. Attractive girls all around him willing to give him attention hold far more promise than nerdy grad student with good grades and deep philosophies and a worrisome nature. No, it would never be worth it, even if it were possible. It would be sensible just to scoop Dean Winchester out of his mind. What's the point of wasting time and energy on a hopelessly lost cause that he probably doesn't even want that bad? He's not a teenager pining over celebrities anymore. He should be looking for somewhat promising commitment at this age, not a pretty face. Lost in thought, he nearly trips over a chair and quickly scampers away, hoping no one saw, and realizes with a jolt that he has no idea where he's been going. Didn't they come in this way, somewhere around here? Darn, now he's lost. In a house no less, granted a very crowded house with seizure-inducing lighting and deafening music. Add no sense of direction to the list. Where is the front door again?

"Hey isn't that Castiel?"

"Hey, Cassiel!"

He turns and sees a few people he vaguely recognizes from one of his classes, not sure which one. He blinks at them, not bothering to correct his name. They motion for him to come over. He cocks his head in confusion for a split second before stiffly making his way over, not sure what they could possibly want with him.

"Hey!" It's actually a few people he recognizes.

"Hey." He repeats, unsure of what else to say. It seems like they didn't expect anything different.

"You're not… studying or something? Wow." They sound genuinely interested, but Castiel feels a prick of the familiar embarrassment. He's like an elementary school teacher, no one thinks he exists outside of class and studying, and possibly even sleeps inside the classroom.

"No."_ I'm just reviewing the material tattooed behind my eyelid, can't you tell? The strobe lights help with the effect._

"Weren't you dating that Meg chick?" A shorter one asks nosily.

"Really? Man, she's a whore."

He blinks. "Yeah, I figured that out."

"Seriously?"

They're just giddy with the interesting turn of events, Castiel reminds himself. Not actually interested in his life. _Castiel_ is at a party. Is this gossip worthy material? Are they going to tell the tale later about how they saw _Castiel_ at a _party_ and talked about his _love life_! It's probably like discovering a new island, Castiel thought wryly, not really paying attention as they jabbered at him like he's a zoo animal.

"I thought you would be dating a more… you know." He makes a motion. "Someone who's more… like you."

Someone who is equally dull, they mean. Castiel hears it, even if they don't say it. Even when he's trying to mix in, they won't accept him. Always the odd one out, that's him.

"Um. Yeah I guess that's a reasonable expectation."

"Sorry, can barely hear you man. Duuude hot chick 4 o'clock."

"Where?"

"Dude, that's Lisa Braeden."

"_Lisa Braeden_? Fuck. Fuck, come on…"

"I'll… see you later then." Castiel mutters, unheard, and turns away with a sigh, hoping no one saw him talking to himself.

The air inside suddenly becomes too stuffy and he slips out the door craving the biting air that reminds him of home. As he sits down on the door step, not straying far in case Balthazar actually came looking for him, he hears a slightly familiar laugh. No way.

Standing a few meters away is Dean fucking Winchester, talking into his cellphone, back turned to Castiel.

"Was." Dean says.

Castiel tenses to go back inside, but the irresistibly crisp December air coupled with a crippling sense of curiosity holds him fast. He already feels pathetic for eaves dropping. It has nothing to do with him at all. He is definitely not interested in Dean Winchester in any way.

"I said, was. She ain't your girlfriend no more." Ain't is a crude word, and Castiel wrinkles his nose. The type of people who use it usually don't appeal to Castiel's tastes in company. Besides, he's gossiping, nothing of importance or great mental intellect.

"No, I mean, you're going to dump her, because you have done nothing wrong and she sounds like an intolerable bitch if she says shit like that to make you think it's your fault she fucking cheated on you." Dean's voice is practically a growl, which definitely should not be hot. He sounds strangely defensive, and Castiel winces, since his words had struck a little too close to home.

"Yeah well, seems like that's not true anymore. Look, there's me, and I ain't a saint. I sleep around and I generally don't give a fuck about their feelings and shit."

And no one cares, is the part that makes Castiel shake his head indignantly. The things people can get away with just because they know their way around.

"But that's better than the other option. Pretending to give a fuck about their feelings and then gutting them. That's how I can sleep at night. Because I know that I make no pretense and they'll get over it because they know I've never made any pretense. I never say what I don't mean, I've lied enough in our lives to tell the difference between the lies we need to make and those that are plain selfish."

The way he says that sounds dark, as if the person on the other end of the phone knows exactly what he' talking about, but no one else does. What has he done? Drugs? Theft? Cons?

"In the end, the odd one or two clingers may be mad at me and they may hate my guts but they won't ever think about it again. The worst is when people pull shit like this. They do the sweet caring girl or dude thing and get into your pants or your pantry or whatever they want, and they do a damn good job of it. But either they never meant it in the first place or they're just insufferably flawed, they'll screw up and blame YOU for it. Make you hate yourself. And there's just no running away from that. Either of the above options checks them off the list of girlfriend material. She wants you to feel miserable, makes her feel better about it too cuz you believing it's your fault makes her believe it too. So you go and you tell her it's over and slash or slap her in the face – she definitely deserves a slap for cheating on you at the very least – and then move the fuck on. Don't even try to explain yourself cuz she's just going to argue in that whiny girl-arguing voice and take away your sweet sweet closure. And then you go find someone has the exact opposite hair color and say 'hey, wanna fuck?' Kapeesh?"

It makes so much sense that Castiel is taken aback. It's almost as if Dean is addressing him. The way he sounds genuinely upset about it reminds Castiel of a parent, and he really doesn't know what to think of this new side of Dean. Everyone has hidden sides, it shouldn't be a shock. It's not like he's special or anything. Castiel just wouldn't know what other people's depths are since he doesn't get around to analyzing anyone much. Meg certainly had a deeper side too, but it seems like that idealistic side hadn't won out in the end.

"This is why Dad doesn't let me leave you alone. You get yourself into stupid shit like an idiot."

A brother? He sounds fond, despite the crass word choice. The warmth is in his tone, and something else Castiel can't quite place, but really likes.

"Shut up. I just understand people is all."

A pause while the other end that Castiel can't hear speaks.

"Yeah right. 'Oh you're suicidal? At least you haven't got ghosts and demons on your ass and you're not a rugaru and haven't been bitten by a vampire or werewolf. Here, copy down this Latin incantation if you ever bump into a demon though and oh, don't forget to put salt in your doors and windows. So stop trying to kill yourself cuz there's already a billion things that want to do that and they don't need your help. That'll be a bajillion bucks sir.' Yeah, that's gonna work out real well."

Well… ok Castiel understood none of that. Is it an inside joke? A bad analogy? It definitely sound like a bad joke, but he said it pretty seriously and bares striking resemblance to something he had heard multiple times before, maybe in a class or during research. Why would Dean be talking about that? Those aren't common knowledge right? It's not as if he said to hide under your blankets and lock the windows, or carry crosses. Latin and salt seem a little too drastic for a joke. And what the hell is a rugaru? How old is this brother? Is he telling him a story? _Old enough to be having sex._ Castiel makes a face and refuses to go down that train of thought.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, bitch." He snaps indignantly, the humor in his voice making it more comical than it should have been. "You're welcome, baby brother."

Although Dean's tone is lightly sarcastic and teasing, it's fond and, dare he say, _loving_, doesn't sound like the insensitive heartbreaker he's made out to be. Maybe there _is_ actually a good reason so many people like him. Definitely not including Castiel himself.

Dean hangs up and stands there with his head slanted upwards for a little while more, as if he's actually enjoying the solitude more than his usual antics. He turns around with the remnant of a content expression on his face before spotting Castiel and freezing. They both freeze actually. Dean looks panicked for a millisecond, then relaxes, as if he had thought he said something he didn't want anyone overhearing, and checked back through the entire conversation, reassuring himself that he hadn't spilt the secret.

Castiel, however, is mortified. Not only is he caught in Dean's vicinity _alone_, but he's also just basically intruded on his privacy.

"Sorry I–" I _what_? What was he doing? Listening in for entertainment? Crap, crap, crap. He looks away, heart racing, carefully keeps his expression blank, with little success. "I couldn't help over hearing. I probably shouldn't have done that."

Even when trying not to look at Dean, he sees his eyebrow go up coldly.

"It's fine man." He says, the walks past Castiel without a hitch in his step.

Castiel is almost relieved. His eyes flicker up to glance at the taller male of their own accord and meets with the other's gaze for a split second, and it's too late to stop it once he's noticed. To his chagrin, Dean looks gorgeous even up close. His embarrassment thankfully doesn't last long. He's alone once again; Dean hasn't even spared him a second glance. Of course, why would it be a big deal? He's only heard a pretty generic conversation, as conversations go. He sits down with a huff, guts twisting in embarrassment.

Where the heck is Balthazar?

He pulls his phones out and texts his own brother, Gabriel.

_Do you know what a rugeru is? Did I spell that right?_

His phone buzzes mere minutes later.

_Gabriel: Where the hell did you hear that? It's a type of human flesh eating monster. Thought you do theology and religion and stuff._

Gabriel did know a suspicious amount about this type of thing.

_Overheard someone mention it._ He texts back.

The reply this time is instant.

_Gabriel: Who? Are you with them now? Be careful._

_Just a student who goes to my campus. Why?_

This time, it takes forever for Gabriel to reply.

_Gabriel: Little brother, maybe it's time to call the folks. I won't have a conversation about this over text, my thumbs are going to fall off. I'll see you later, alright?_

Castiel confirms it and frowns. He hasn't called the "folks" in months. He'd left with Gabriel when Gabriel moved out here to attend college while he was in high school. Their family was… over whelming, to say the least. Their brothers and father have always been distant and strange, and sometimes a horror to behold together. Castiel felt like he was always kept in the dark about some secret that caused them to have such divided opinions. Gabriel had whisked him away from Boston as soon as he could, and Castiel is forever thankful for it. Having a chat with the folks is never a good thing, and he can't help but dread the reason Gabriel thinks he actually has need to speak with them again. In spite of that, curiosity burns at what could possibly be the correlation between rugarus and needing to consult family.

Balthazar breaks his train of thought by opening the door. "Sorry Cassy, she was in a bad mood cuz Winchester left her ass hangin'.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "Then what have you been doing all this time?"

"Ah, well, Meg showed up."

Castiel frowns, refusing to be perturbed by his ex being in the general vicinity. "And how does that have anything to do with you running late?"

"How do you think?" Balthazar grins crazily and winks. "Come on, let's go. The night is still young and I still need to burn that coat of yours."

Balthazar pulls him up and strolls to his car with his hand on Castiel's back, a habit that he's developed, at first from teasing Castiel about his reluctance to make physical contact with another human being.

Castiel finds a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.


End file.
